


Yes, General.

by mastersword



Series: Hunter Stories [3]
Category: When The Night Comes (Visual Novel)
Genre: Boot Worship, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Oral Sex, idk what to tag this stuff as, some more idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mastersword/pseuds/mastersword
Summary: Aristotle was notorious for being able to rile people up. Either angering or flustering, often both. He was notorious at the academy for it. He was once called a “horny bastard” and he couldn't find it in himself to disagree.or August can't say no to this "horny bastard" even when in their office
Relationships: Hunter/August Willenheim
Series: Hunter Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543963
Kudos: 21





	Yes, General.

**Author's Note:**

> we didnt get office sex in the game so be the change u want to see in the world and all that shit
> 
> i forgot i wrote this like a month ago lol

August flushed as Aristotle cupped their face, averting their gaze and muttering something. Aristotle turned their face back towards his, leaning close. Their noses brushed and Aristotle could feel their breath on his face.

“I am still your superior. You shouldn’t so casually touch me while we are at work, Aristotle.”

“Please, August.” Aristotle leaned in close, breathing hotly on their ear. “Call me Ari.”

His trademark shit-eating grin plastered to his face as August’s breath caught, but his expression soured as August broke free of his grip and stepped back, smoothing their clothing.

“Hunter Ibn-La’Ahad, you’re dismissed.” They turned to return to their desk, but Aristotle followed, pressing against their back and wrapping his arms around them. He hummed as he pressed his face into their shoulder. He breathed in the familiar scent of lavender.

“You know what you do to me when you address me by my title,  _ General. _ ” August placed a hand on their desk to steady themselves as they were gently pinned between their desk and their lover. Aristotle moved a hand, gently brushing his fingers against their neck as he moved the ponytail out of the way, then removing it from the ponytail altogether. He couldn’t help himself. He placed a soft kiss where the hair once sat. His other hand moved lower, gently removing the sash from their waist and dropping it onto the desk. 

August raised their hand sharply, and Aristotle heard the door behind them lock. That meant he had permission to continue, but he asked anyway to make sure.

“We good?” His voice was soft and lacked any of the intensity it usually had. August shivered in his arms as they nodded and let out a small “yes, continue.” 

Aristotle smiled, leaving the soft affection behind. He placed more lingering kisses to their neck as the one hand inched ever lower, slow in an attempt to work up August. His other hand found its way under the collar of their shirt. 

Aristotle’s hand inched ever closer to its prize, before he pulled back and August  _ groaned _ throwing a nasty look over their shoulder. Aristotle turned them, pulling them in for a rough and hungry kiss. He pushed them back onto the desk, a few papers falling off. He could tell that bothered August by the way they paused, but Aristotle pulled their attention back as he pinned them to the desk. He broke the kiss to place his mouth along their jaw, neck, and collar bone, pulling their shirt down their shoulders.

He trailed his kisses down their sternum, unbuttoning the robes for access to their stomach before finally dropping down on his knees and looking up at them. He suppressed a smile as he spoke.

“Tell me what you need, General.”

August set their jaw before speaking, their expression returning to the familiar unreadable look. They lifted their leg and placed it on Aristotle’s shoulder. The heel uncomfortable digging into his shoulder, but his whole body pulsed as August gazed down at him.

“Remove my trousers.” August’s voice was authoritative, as if they were issuing a command to kill a monster. A chill ran down Aristotle’s spine. The glow of the room began to pulse as Aristotle’s hands began on his command. He was practiced enough to know how to remove them without removing the boots. He tossed them to the side, uncaring of where they landed. He watched intently as August’s eyes followed them and a brief look of concern passed over their face.

Aristotle moved forward in an attempt to finally claim his prize, but the foot on his shoulder pushed him back. August’s stare was intense and Aristotle swallowed thickly at the heat he felt. 

“Did I tell you to move?” Aristotle gazed up, taking in the view. August’s hair cascaded down their shoulders, their shirt hung loosely off their torso, and their thigh high boots hugged their porcelain skin. His mouth was dry. They were so beautiful and Aristotle had them all to himself. 

Most people assumed August was mean and hard to be around. They also assumed the same about Aristotle, but to a different degree. Aristotle would agree that he’s a bit of an ass and generally difficult to like, but August didn’t deserve the same sentiment. August was a generous and kind person, and an even more generous lover. Aristotle would do anything for August to be happy.

“Sorry, General. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” August’s gaze was intense, and it took everything within Aristotle to not falter under it. August hummed, as if considering what to say next. “Your hands.”

“Yes, General?”

“They are powerful, are they not? A hunter such as yourself has immense strength. You are able to hold your ground with monsters.” Aristotle waited for what they said next. His skin buzzed. Heat pooled in his gut. He would do anything for August. That was the only thought in his head as August spoke next. “Touch me. Please me, like I know you can, Hunter Ibn-La’Ahad.”

August’s voice was elegant and sharp, portraying the proper upbringing and schooling they received. Aristotle’s was rough and inelegant. He had grown up on the streets and hadn’t received a proper education until joining the hunter’s academy, but by that time it was too late. He’d always been rough around the edges and much prefered a sword to a book, but perhaps that difference is what brought Aristotle and August so close together. 

Aristotle needed nothing more before he moved forward, roughly grasping August’s thighs and digging his nails in as he spread them and moved his head forward. He placed a few lingering kisses on their inner thigh, and nipped along the sensitive skin as he moved closer, hoping he was leaving marks.

August let out a strained noise as Aristotle finally engulfed him. His hands dragged down their thighs, leaving dull marks from his nails. Their head lulled back as he continued, bringing a hand to his messy hair. 

It didn’t take long for them to turn into a mess, as their grip tightened on his hair. Small encouragements of “yes” and “don’t stop” left their lips. Their heel dug into his shoulder and the pain made his head buzz. 

Aristotle pulled back for a second, looking up at August who moved their head with much effort to make eye contact with the man.

“Permission to continue, General?”

“I swear to god if you don’t make me come right now I will fire you I don’t care if I don’t have that authority I will figure out how to -”

Their words died as Aristotle continued, faster and more insistent than before, quickly bringing them to their climax. They twitched violently and their nails  _ dug _ into Aristotle’s scalp. He slowed, but continued his movements through it all, finally pulling away to stare at the person above him. 

Their breathing was heavy as their head lulled back, their shoulders lose. Their foot had slipped from Aristotle’s shoulder and now their leg rested loosely on him. He placed a few more kisses on their thighs. 

As much as he enjoyed watching his lover come down from a high, he was  _ aching _ .

“General, sir.” August lifted their head to gaze down at the larger man. They tried to look stern but their expression betrayed that they didn’t realize they were still doing this. Aristotle smiled. “May I have permission to touch myself?”

August’s expression shifted and they hummed as if to consider whether they should allow Aristotle the relief. They lifted their leg off of his shoulder, placing the heel back where it once was. They knew he liked it.

“I need you to first remove your trousers.” Their voice was commanding, their previous breathiness gone. 

“Yes, sir.” Aristotle unbuttoned them and struggled to remove them without getting up, but succeeded after a moment. He looked up expectantly. August raised their foot once more, gently caressing Aristotle’s face with the expensive boot. August looked down at him with faux indifference, as if his life was worth less than their boot. That sent a jolt to his core. 

“Now…” They dragged it out, tilting his chin up with their foot. “Remove your shirt.” 

Aristotle made quick work of his shirt and accompanying armor. The clang the metal of his weapons and armor made echoed through the room and Aristotle absently considered if someone outside heard them. August’s foot made contact with Aristotle’s bare chest. 

He gently caressed the expensive leather, placing a kiss to their calf. He trailed kisses up to their thigh, before making contact with the skin once more. 

Despite their previous climax, they were obviously getting interested once more. Aristotle grinned up at them. They huffed. 

“You shouldn’t give your superior such a smug look, Hunter Ibn-La’Ahad.”

“Sorry, General. I just can’t help myself around you.”

August made a strained noise. Aristotle moved further up their thigh, reaching for them once more. Their breath caught. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aristotle immediately released them. “I… need a moment.” Their expression changed from bothered back to impassive a second later. “Stand.”

Aristotle did as he was told.

“Come here.”

Aristotle took a step forward, closing the distance between them. August’s soft and well manicured hands took his face in them and they brought him for a soft kiss that quickly turned rough and needy. Aristotle loved playing games, but his already thin patience was wearing out. August wrapped their arms around his shoulders and leaned back, laying across their desk, sending papers, pens, and other office supplies tumbling to the floor. August groaned, but whether it was from the mess or the fact Aristotle was now laying on top of them was unknown. 

Aristotle’s hands trailed all along their body, caressing every curve and divot. He fully removed the shirt that was desperately clinging to their shoulders. August brought a leg up to pull Aristotle impossibly closer. Aristotle began rutting against them, desperate for release but trying to be patient. August groaned at the feeling, moving their own hips against him.

Aristotle pulled back, August chasing his touch. 

“Stand up.” He commanded them. Goosebumps prickled their skin as his demeanor changed and he took charge. August did as they were told.

“Turn around.” Aristotle gripped their thin hips, pushing them forward. Their hands hit the desk hard in an attempt to stop themselves from falling forward. Aristotle nudged their legs apart with his knees. 

“You know what to do, Augustus.” They bristled at their full name, reaching over their desk to open a small drawer. They quickly found what they were looking for, as they know where everything is in their desk. They used to be able to say that about what was on their desk. Aristotle took the small bottle. A somewhat reluctant Ezra gave it to Aristotle a few weeks back, who convinced August to keep it in their desk.

Aristotle could laugh. They said there was no use to keep it in here.

He began preparing them slowly. Fingers slowly massaging the flesh, inserting one finger. August let out small sighs of pleasure as he continued and inserted a second. Aristotle loved the sounds August made, music to his ears. But he was getting impatient. He inserted a third finger, moved them around to loosen them up, then removed them. His other hand found his own member.

After preparing the two of them he wrapped an arm around August’s waist and slowly began. A deep sigh escaped his mouth and August’s head dropped forward. The sounds escaping their mouth as Aristotle moved was music to his ears. They were never loud during sex, but Aristotle ate up ever small whimper and moan that managed to escape. 

Aristotle was worked up. Whenever August plays the General card, he gets hot  _ quick _ . It didn’t take long for him to set a fast pace, hands tightly gripping August’s waist, nails marking the skin, and August holding on for dear life on their desk. Every hit sent August forward into the desk and their breathing was uneven and labored. Aristotle moved a hand forward to coax August to their second climax. 

A familiar and welcome heat coiled in his gut and his head was light from pleasure. He chased the release he was so desperate for.

Aristotle’s pace was brutal and August whined under the ministrations. Seemingly out of nowhere, August reached the peak once more, their voice leaving them and they collapsed forward onto the desk. Aristotle continued only a few moments more before the heat finally climaxed. His grip on August was so tight he was certain it would bruise. He collapsed forward onto his lover.

The two laid there for a while, before Aristotle moved back to let August breathe and to pick up his trousers and shirt. He reluctantly began dressing again, knowing August would prefer they not stay in this state in their office for longer than they already had. August finally pushed away from the desk, turning and embracing Aristotle once more, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“I love you, Ari, but  _ never _ do this again.”

Aristotle grinned.

“Of course, General.”


End file.
